Mirror Mirror
by SpoonyChan
Summary: Zexion has a clone of himself, but he finds a more pleasurable use of it than battle. Zexion/ZexionClone, graphic lemon.


I like words. With them, you can spin an intricate web and wait for victims to carelessly get captured, then ravel them up and extricate their essence wholesomely. On the contrary, you can weave every hue into an open sky with an endless horizon, ever-rising, the birds' wings dissipating evenly in the sun's tropical light as it ducks beneath the grassy knolls. What fascinates me though, is how some people -- one in particular -- can fit so many words into a simple action, so many beautiful, unknown, unnamed words into the smallest things, without even moving a muscle near the mouth.

Save for your lips pressed tenderly against mine.

We talk often, but words seem so frivolous and inferior to the communication we channel through the touch of our skins, even if they're mere grasps of the hand or tilts of the chin. His eyes, identical to mine, are worth a million words by just the brilliance they resonate -- a clear, icy blue, almost alabaster -- better yet the feelings transferred and burned into my own frosty periwinkle.

It must be because...I'm you. A simple clone you made from your own flesh and blood. I thought you made me the same reason the other's made _their_ clones -- why Marluxia makes his flower clones, why Demyx makes his water clones -- for battle, and that was _it_. I thought I was disposable like them, but I'm still here, still here in the Room of Sleep, safe, pulling in and out of my pensiveness as I try to drift into an actual state of slumber.

I twitch slightly when your gloved hand pushes the hair out of my right eye, pausing, then carefully pushing a bit more out of the way so it softly stays in place on my cheek for a moment where you study my face like a mirror, but the gravity of my upright position in the pod causes it to tumble back down. I open my eyes instantly and you smirk.

"I knew it." You turn your back to me, walk step-by-step, hardly making a sound. I'm staring at your receding heels then start when I look up and notice how you're watching me and you know exactly what I'm thinking and it's _exactly_ what you want me to think. I scoff, stepping out of the capsule, my hair bouncing.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, stepping forward only slightly -- every move, every expression, every _word_ leaks out a little more information. I have to watch myself. Carefully.

"You were pretending to sleep." You turn to me, arms crossed, weight shifted to one hip, "Eager to know what I do to you when you're _actually_ sleeping?"

I want to say something back, but I know that's just what _you_ want me to do. Instead, I stay silent, not even showing a sign of my want. I'm stuck in zero position, shoulders straight, arms hanging at my sides.

"It's not polite to leave a superior's question unanswered, Zexion."

I feel a shiver chill through my body from the bottom up, so powerful I feel my lips part, taking in a tiny gasp of air. You called me..._Zexion_. You never call me anything but "it" and "you" -- not even gracing me with the appropriate title of _"clone_" or "copy". Giving me a name, and _your_ name at that, seems to stir a whole new world of emotions within the pit of my stomach. I wish they were real emotions. They just make me feel sick.

"Do you even _do _anything to me in my sleep?" I manage to utter weakly after the unexpected blow. I can practically hear the scheming laughter in your, the real Zexion's, head as you stalk toward me, your arms still crossed as your eyes bore into me, stepping forward bit-by-bit.

"I'll only answer your question if you answer mine..." You're dangerously close, but your arms are still crossed. Your face is directly across from mine. I almost see nothing but the slate hair covering your right eye. "..._correctly_."

I straighten myself up bravely and answer "_correctly"_, "No. I was only thinking and couldn't get any sleep. I was half asleep, so that's why it took me a while to open my eyes."

"Hm." You don't believe me. You're too busy playing with my hair again. I furrow my brow at this action as you tuck the majority of hair parted on the right side of my face behind my ear. You smile at my frown. I don't like my face to be so exposed, even if it looks exactly like yours. You can see my expressions then, however devoid of all emotion they're supposed to be.

"Adorable." You say, eyes flicking from one part of my face to the next. I scowl.

"You're such a narcissist."

You kiss my nose almost simultaneously with the word and I feel my face bloom red. You laugh in your throat minutely, tracing circles in my cheek with your thumb. "You're one to talk about narcissism. Your blush erupts with vanity." I squeak when your free hand finds the clothed erection in my pants, barely circling the bulge with a svelte finger. "As well as the rest of your body."

The pounding in my heart is deafening as I feel your breath hot against my neck, hardly wafting against it as your fingers lightly touch my zipper hanging between my collar bones, the metal tinkling. It unzips slowly against my naked chest underneath. You can feel my heart racing as I try to hold in my hitching breaths, and I can feel your lips curl into a shallow smile against the skin on my neck. My blood runs cold when you regain the distance between us, turning your back to me, your hands folded behind your back, your footsteps echoing through the mysterious room.

I want to cry, I want to shout, I want to fall on my hands and knees and beg you to take my virginity caged inside me, begging to be released, but I gulp and finally breathe, not obviously. Very soft. Controlled. "Are you going somewhere?"

Stop. Your head only turns slightly. I don't see your eye -- only your eyelashes. I'm screaming inside, bleeding, wounded. "Clearly."

"Where?" I try to sound serious and not urgently wanting to relieve the trouble tightly bound in my pants. You open a swirling portal in front of you with a splay of your fingers.

"You want to come, don't you?"

_Yes, god dammit, and you know it. _

"I'm just curious."

You step one foot into your portal. "I guess that's a no."

"_Wait!"_

Your head finally turns to me and I see your magnificent, almost pearly white eyes, locked onto me, your target. Your sly smirk is unmistakable. I've taken the bait and you're reeling me into your trap, and I _want_ to be captured.

"I want to go with you."

"Hurry up then."

I sprint awkwardly toward you as you disappear into the portal before me, disintegrating and reappearing right next to you in an equally white room, but not quite as vast. It's your bedroom. It has to be. It smells like sweet pomegranate, and I swear somewhere in that cacophony of scents, I can smell blood, sweat, screams -- too many to even fathom. Do I really want to release my virgin self into such a world?

_A better question would be...__**will**__ I lose my virgin self in such a world._

I start when I find you staring at me expectantly, straightening myself up to appear more presentable. You utter a small "hm" and make your way to the bed, sitting yourself cross-legged onto it, still watching me as if waiting for me to do something. Something daring.

"May I help you?" I answer those challenging eyes.

"I was going to ask the same of you." You reply, straightening your cloak.

"You _know_ what I want." It finally escapes my lips and I feel the heat of victory rising in your original self.

"But that doesn't mean I'm obligated to _give yo_u what you want, does it?" You rise, grasping my arm and sitting me on the bed, half-way by force. "Tell me what you want, Zexion."

I bite my lip, the heat in my cheeks making me dizzy. I won't let myself stoop to such a level. I'm _part of you_. I don't fall that easily. I didn't get my haughtiness from just _anywhere_. I refuse silently, but your knee touches my groin and my member instantly reacts, growing even tighter behind leather.

You leer down at me and I leer right back. You move slowly, lifting up my cloak so the zipper to my pants is revealed and carefully unzipped. _Oh, thank God..._You dip your finger down directly right next to the open zipper, rubbing the very inner of my thigh. My eyes widen at this, in anger, in disbelief, _discontentedness_. My member is throbbing, begging to spill out it's seed, but it's not even granted the slightest touch. You inch your finger closer, millimeter-by-millimeter.

I'm completely fed up. I bite the tip of my finger, pulling the leather glove off, and dart my hand down to finish the job myself, but my hand is cast away and bound behind my back with the other hand, encircled by your shadowy illusions as tight handcuffs.

"What is it you want?" Your voice is condescending and I hate it, "Tell me and I'll certainly give it to you. Or is there something you wish to give to me?"

"Th-there is..." I loathe the sound of my quivering voice. So weak. My words stop up in my throat when you get on your knees and massage every area around my cock with your fingers.

"There is? How generous. Is this something precious to you? Something you're desperately eager to finally get rid of?"

"_Yes!_"

"What is it?"

My stomach is writhing and churning and it _hurts_. My lips are mashed together, but I finally manage to breathe, "My virginity..."

"Oh, is that it?" Your hand bound in leather finds my manhood and pulls it out, stroking it slightly with a single finger, up and down, up and down. Your eyes stare up at mine. Your eyes are dry. Mine are glossing over. You smile and pull something out of your pocket, something I can't quite make out until it's fastened around the end of my throbbing heat. A god forsaken cock ring.

"Wh...what are you doing?" I cry desperately. I can't control it anymore. I need you. I bite down hard as you climb upon me, your teeth finding my collar bone, sinking yourself into the sensitive flesh. "T-take it off! _Please!_"

"You said you wanted to give me your virginity," you begin, pushing me onto my back and pulling my pants down, "you didn't say you wanted anything else."

"I _want _something else!"

"Oh?"

"Don't _'oh' _me! You _know_ what I want!"

Your glare is hot before you dip down again and clench your teeth around a fleshy chunk of my abdomen, clamping down so hard I swear I can feel muscle tear, arteries and veins split. You resurface with a bit of skin hanging from your teeth, pulling it out somewhat elegantly. "You're so needy. What else do you want? Tell me appropriately."

"I want to come." I say it sternly as you bring two bare fingers to my lips and tap.

"You will come," you begin as I suck the fingers, lathering them with spit accordingly, "eventually."

A finger enters me and doesn't hesitate to hook inside, causing me to howl and arch my back against my cuffed hands. A second finger, a third, and it's just then that I realize how tight my entrance is. Even more when you go just a bit further, entering your pinky and spreading the digits apart. I see stars. I'm already bleeding.

"Do you actually like the pain?"

I can only nod.

"Hm," you muse, "so we aren't _exactly_ the same."

You remove the fingers and quickly replace them with your own erection, pushing in slowly until you reach the end of your length, then pulling back out.

"How does it feel?" You ask, pushing in faster.

"Terrible," I growl defiantly, referring to my seed begging to be free.

"Really? I'll stop then."

"N-no!"

"Hm."

It seems like a century as you pull in and out, in and out, faster and faster, and then you finally find it as I shudder from head to toe -- my prostate. You smirk, slamming again and again as I cry, "Harder! _Harder!_" as much as it pains me to do so, my manhood suffering from each feeling of pleasure. I can feel my stomach on fire. My body _wants_ to come, but it can't, it just _can't_, and I want to beg for mercy, I _need _to!

"Z-Zexion...!" I finally utter through thrusts. You don't answer me, but I continue my screams, "I'm coming! I-I'm going to come!"

"You aren't."

"I-I _need_ to!"

"You can hold it."

"_Please, _Zexion! Have mercy!"

I can't believe what I've been reduced to as you laugh in your throat. I scream in agony as the pressure builds up and I feel like my shaft is going to tear off. I curl my toes and arch my back even higher and you go even deeper.

"_Take it off! __**Please!**__"_

"I'm not finished."

"_I'm begging you!_"

You bite my shoulder deeply, clenching hard as you spill your seed into me. It fills my insides, almost fit to burst in more ways than one now. Tears are streaking down my face as you pull out, pushing down on my stomach so your fluid leaks out. I moan and whimper at the feeling, and you finally wrap your fingers around the cock ring and pull it off, quickly moving out of the way when the strangled cum is released.

I'm panting heavily as you crawl up to my face, pushing my sticky hair out of the way so you can kiss me full on the lips, nibbling on my bottom lip playfully. "Don't things go so much better when you ask politely?

I catch my breath after skipping a few. "I hate you."

A genuine smile crosses your lips as you cock your head, looking down at my identical face, although significantly more fatigued. You kiss my nose sweetly. "Narcissist, huh?"

I like words. But only when I'm using them. Not when they're used against me.


End file.
